


And Did You Know That You Were Always Like A Fantasy?

by waitineedaname



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Dancing, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), The Mechanisms Were The Archivist's College Band, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, this is real short and I'm just trying to get a feel for their voices, vague references to trauma because. well. it's this show.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:28:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24599056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitineedaname/pseuds/waitineedaname
Summary: Even if the worst was yet to come, it was hard to care during mornings like this, when everything felt still and quiet. Not the still quietness of a world holding its breath, but the peace of Martin’s warm body brushing against his side as they went through the domestic motions of washing the dishes together.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 14
Kudos: 224





	And Did You Know That You Were Always Like A Fantasy?

**Author's Note:**

> I have yet again made the mistake of letting a podcast take over my life
> 
> This is inspired by Sam @notedchampagne because it was their birthday recently and they wanted jonmartin dancing and being sweet! I included a little bit of the Mechs as Jon's college band because I've been voraciously consuming as much Mechs content as possible lately and I love that headcanon. Hopefully this feels in character! I'm working out their voices
> 
> also on a serious note, please support BLM if you can. [check out this link for resources](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/?fbclid=IwAR1zLOX4liVh0MrwFGpPnvUu4-v6Qfr0iYhZhMCW1I4lWt9c2hsfzpj9llw) !
> 
> oh I almost forgot but the title is from Fantasy by khai dreams!

If someone had told Jon two years earlier where he would be and who he would be there with, he would have scoffed. Really? With him? It would have been too absurd to consider. If someone had told him two months earlier, he would have been scared to believe it. Really? And we’re safe? It was too perfect to even hope for. 

But here he was, standing at Martin’s side in the kitchen of a Scottish safehouse, rinsing the soap suds off the dishes Martin handed him and swaying gently to the soft music playing off of Martin’s phone.

The peaceful domesticity scared him sometimes. He would catch himself getting too comfortable, and he would be seized by a sudden terror that it was a trick or that it would all be yanked out from underneath him, that some fearsome monster was waiting for just the right moment to strike him down. He would count the doors and stare at the cobwebs in the corners and avoid his own gaze in the mirror. It couldn’t be real. After all that had happened, after all he had done and become, he couldn’t have this scrap of happiness.

It  _ was  _ real, though. Martin, if nothing else, was real. It was hard to deny that fact when he had Martin’s warm body brushing against his side as they went through the domestic motions of washing the dishes together. It was hard to deny the memories of Martin’s soft kisses on his cheeks or the victorious laugh Martin let out when he discovered a long forgotten bottle of wine in the cupboard or the dozens of pictures in his phone of Martin posing next to indifferent Highland cows.

Even if the worst was yet to come, it was hard to care during mornings like this, when everything felt still and quiet. Not the still quietness of a world holding its breath, but the peace of waking up naturally to light filtering in through curtains, with the arm of the person he loved around his waist.

Martin roused him out of his thoughts by leaning across the sink to turn up the volume on his phone. “Oh, I like this song.”

Jon huffed out a soft, fond laugh. He couldn’t help but think the song was the same as the last dozen he’d played; apparently Martin’s fondness for “lo-fi charm” extended to soft indie music Jon had never heard of, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind.

Jon didn’t realize he was singing along until he felt Martin staring at him. “What?” He said, caught off guard.

“I didn’t think you knew this song.” Martin said with pleased surprise.

“I don’t.”

“...Ah.” Martin said. “Well, I guess there are worse things to Know?”

“I suppose.” Jon sighed, unhappy despite the relatively innocuous nature of the Knowledge. It would never become less unsettling to suddenly Know things he didn’t ask for. Martin gently bonked his hip against Jon’s, distracting him from the downward spiral that seemed imminent.

“I’ve never heard you sing before.”

“It’s not like we hosted karaoke nights.” Jon smiled wryly.

“I’m fairly certain Tim planned one, but it never happened for… whatever reason.” Martin steered the conversation away from another uncomfortable subject. “You have a nice voice, you know.”

“I’m flattered.” Jon said, a sarcastic tone covering genuine happiness at the praise. “Would you believe I was in a band while at Uni?”

“No, I wouldn’t believe that, actually.” Martin’s expression was of surprised delight.

“We were quite eccentric.”

“Now that I  _ do  _ believe.”

Jon allowed that a self-deprecating huff of laughter. “A bunch of dramatic Oxford students singing about space pirates and cyberpunk Frankenstein and Arthurian legends retold as sci-fi westerns…” He smiled fondly at the memory.

“Jon.” He looked over to find Martin looking at him with restrained glee. “ _ Please _ tell me you have recordings of this somewhere.”

“What, currently? No.”

“You don’t understand. I have to hear this right now.”

“I can’t help you! It was over a decade ago.” He laughed at Martin’s exaggerated pout and leaned up to press a kiss to his nose. “Sorry, darling.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I’ll just lose sleep knowing there are probably pictures of my boyfriend dressed as a  _ space pirate _ , and I can’t see them.” Martin heaved a great sigh, but there was a smile playing at his lips. He dried his hands and turned to place them on Jon’s hips. Jon followed suit by taking off his dish gloves and draping his arms over Martin’s shoulders.

“There are certainly worse things to lose sleep over.” Jon said, playing with a tuft of hair that curled over the back of Martin’s neck.

“I guess so.” Martin pressed his face into the top of Jon’s head, and when the song on his phone switched to something with a quicker tempo, he could feel Martin’s smile. He started swaying, hands still on Jon’s waist.

“Martin,” Jon said with a warning in his voice, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing. I’m not doing anything.” Martin replied innocently. He stood up straight and smiled down at Jon.

“I’m fairly certain this is something.”

Martin rolled his eyes fondly. “I’m dancing. You know, that thing people do where they move in time to music? Surely you’ve heard of it.”

“I know what  _ dancing  _ is, I’m just- I’m not very  _ good  _ at it.” Jon protested, even though he was already matching Martin’s movements with only the slightest stutter.

“You don’t have to be good at it. Come on.” Martin stepped back and took Jon’s hands, pulling him into the middle of the kitchen. They weren’t even dancing, not really. It was more of a combination of sways and shimmies that made Jon laugh and shuffling footwork as they avoided stepping on each other’s toes. Jon felt more than a little ridiculous, but if he was completely honest with himself, he would do any amount of ridiculous things to keep that happy, adoring look in Martin’s eyes. An adoring look that morphed into one of mischief as Martin said, “I’m going to spin you.”

“Y- Oh!” Jon didn’t even get the chance to question it before Martin was guiding his arm around in a spin. It wasn’t exactly the most elegant maneuver, and he almost lost his balance for just a second, but it startled a laugh out of him all the same. Martin looked delightfully smug when he faced him again. Well, two can play at that game. 

Martin must have seen the look in Jon’s eyes when he decided his next move, but he only had half a second to look inquisitive when Jon slid his hands around Martin’s back. Martin leaned back with him as he was dipped, and Jon relished the surprised awe in Martin’s eyes for just a brief moment. 

And then they simultaneously remembered Jon’s limited upper-body strength. 

Jon’s arms gave out and Martin yelped as he fell, grabbing onto Jon, who let out a shout as he went tumbling down too.

The two of them fell in a heap on the floor, Martin letting out a soft “oof” as he took the brunt of the fall with Jon collapsed on his chest. Martin groaned quietly, and Jon scrambled upright. 

“Oh- Oh god, Martin, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” Jon’s heart seized with panic as he saw Martin sling an arm over his face and start shaking. Oh god, was Martin crying? Jon would never forgive himself. Wait, no, not crying-

“That was so stupid.” Martin managed to say through helpless laughter. He slid his arm off his face to reveal bright eyes and a brighter smile. Jon gaped intelligently at him. “I’m twice your size, how could that have possibly gone well?”

“I…” Jon stammered for an excuse. “I thought it would be romantic.”

“Oh, it was romantic, sure. Really stupid, though.” Martin was still giggling weakly up at Jon, and some of the anxiety slid out of him. Still, he had to ask.

“You’re sure you’re alright?”

“I’m  _ fine _ , Jon.” Martin rolled his eyes. “I’ve dealt with worse than a bruise before.” 

Jon slid back to sit on Martin’s shins as Martin lifted himself into a sitting position. He touched the back of Martin’s head gently, and Martin stalwartly did not flinch. “I can get you some ice.”

“I said I’m fine.” Martin grabbed his hands before he could get up, a laugh still playing in his voice. “You don’t need to fuss.”

“I’m not  _ fussing _ .” Jon protested. Martin gave him a look, and he huffed. “Besides, that’s rich coming from you.”

“Alright, fair.” Martin smiled and kissed Jon’s knuckles, still not letting go. “If you  _ really  _ want to make it up to me… you can find your college band’s stuff?” He asked oh-so-hopefully. Jon laughed softly.

“I’ll see if there’s anything on YouTube. Satisfied?”

“Yes.” Martin looked pleased with himself as he finally stood and pulled Jon to his feet with him. “Now come on, we have dishes to finish.”

The peace might be deceptive, the happiness a trick to convince him to let his guard down, but when he shot Georgie a text requesting concert pictures from their college days while Martin chatted politely with a shopkeeper later that afternoon, Jon was convinced he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me on [tumblr](https://waitineedaname.tumblr.com/) ! I have a lot of emotions about the season one archival staff and I'm dying


End file.
